Earth's Revenge
by Melanie Corran
Summary: How did you like your look on the new world? I warned you it wasn't pretty. I'm Melanie Foster, and I welcome you to the one level before hell, your future. Would you like to continue the tour?


Chapter 1

You want to know what the end of humanity looks like? I'm warning you, it's not pleasant. It looks like giant waves drowning millions of people, tornadoes ripping up towns like tissue paper, earthquakes demolishing skyscrapers to mere rubble, volcanic eruptions burning people to death and starting thousands of forest fires. Everyone else, who survived, is killed in turf wars for the meager resources dotted across the world.

Only a few hundred survived; those of us who were 'special' or just as hard to kill as roaches. I am one of them; the 'special' kind. Our society, or what's left of it, use people like me to help them win more land in war, like the feudal system. We weren't always like this, when the Earth was finished with humanity killing itself. It was as if the Earth said, "psshh, I'm done with you; you're too far gone," and unleashed all hell on humans. I remember every detail of my survival, which was engraved into my memory. I was only three when it happened. I had had no part in the world's pollution or corruption. However, that did not stop the hundred pound supporting beam in our house from crushing my parents after an 8.9 earthquake. It left my brother, Michael, and I to fend for ourselves. We had lived on the coast of California until that horrible day. My younger brother and I had left our home when the food ran out two days after they had died. There was no way we could stay any longer. It was a bitter sweet good-bye, but we had to find food. It was a good thing too because the day after we left, a tsunami the size of the empire state building had wiped out the whole town. We traveled around scrounging for food when we could in the wreckage of other towns. We soon lost track of where we were. Like it mattered anyway. Even though my brother was only a year younger than I was, I felt the need to protect and nurture him. I would give my own life to give him an ounce of bread to eat.

Four years passed this way, I had no idea how we had survived so long. At the age of seven, Marge took us in. She was a tough army woman who had never had any kids of her own. We were far from looking like her kids. We, with our red hair, pale skin, and tall build, looked nothing like the short African American woman. It didn't matter though, we were just glad to have someone else watch over us and have someone to talk to. Someone to protect us from the wild dogs and other animals. It was bliss, for a while. One day, Marge had brought back fresh fruit from a nearby peach tree, that had survived Armageddon, home to our makeshift tent. I remember the sweet juice trickling down my chin, and the soft skin breaking under the slightest pressure of my teeth. I had never tasted anything so amazing before. Out of nowhere, three men had jumped out and demanded that we hand over all of our resources or die. Marge told us that if this ever happened to sneak out the back and hide in the dumpster our tent leaned against, and we did just that. Marge refused to give up anything to the men and tried to fight them. There was a lot of commotion and I huddled with my brother in the far corner of the dumpster.

"Mel, I'm scared," Michael whispered, trembling like a leaf.

"Shh," I said.

After a while all was quiet and I snuck a quick peak outside. Nothing was left except Marge's stiff body on the concrete, blood trickled out of her mouth. She had been murdered for mere pieces of fruit. I let one tear escape. I knew we had to leave before the animals found her body for they would try to eat us too. I couldn't even bury her.

"Mel, is Marge ok?" Michael asked while trying to look out the dumpster.

"Mike, we have to leave now. Marge is gone."

Mike's little eight year old body shook as he cried.

"Alright," he said determinedly, "let's go."

I stared at the poor boy in front of me and how rigid he had become. So adult and foreign, like he was already forty. That moment I took a vow to never grow attached to anyone again besides my brother. I vowed that nothing would matter more to me than keeping him alive.

When I turned eleven, more men ambushed us while we were cooking vension that we had hunted earlier on the outskirts of Denver. Once again the men asked for resources none too kindly. Michael, who was already and inch taller than me, stood in front of me trying to protect me. I stepped out from behind his arms. I would not break my vow. Such anger welled within me. How could these people kill their own race, possibly some of the last on Earth, for a few nibbles of food? They laughed at me when I told them to leave. Then I used my powers to turn myself into a rabid wolf. I growled and snapped at them and they backed away, eyes round as quarters. Michael saw this and took advantage of the moment to show his own powers. A bolt of lightning struck his hands and formed into a baseball sized ball. That is if a baseball has lighting bolts shooting out of it. The burly men screamed and ran away like frightened children. We both took satisfaction in the warm grease that dribbled down our chins.

The next morning a single man appeared with the three men who attacked us and a few others. I should have known then that for him to order his men to attack innocent children, he could be nothing but cruel. He offered us a home with him and food if we would serve him and fight for him. I looked around at the seven people surrounding us and calculating how long it would take to kill them. On the other hand I could accept his offer and be safe again. I agreed and we went with him. His name was John. He didn't have a last name. Ever since I have lived with him and worked under his command. I always stuck to my vow though, I only fought to feed and care for my brother. If I had to I would kill them all for him. As I grew up, I became a beautiful flower, as my mother said, and many men tried to woo me, and again, I stuck to my vow. However, this one man, Thomas, wouldn't give up and never has.

While there I discovered many things about my powers such as when the destructive force was activated, some of us inherited powers, like speed, mind-control, and the elements at our finger-tips, like my brother. I guess the Earth wanted a few to survive. I'm rare however. I have the power to create. There are only two others like me. We are valued because only we, The Creators, can rebuild the glorious cities and remake humans. The only problem is I don't want to. I was sick and tired of the human race ruining our planet. However, no one seems to care what I think; I'm more of a spoil or prisoner of war than a person. How did you like your look on the new world? I warned you it wasn't pretty. I'm Melanie Foster, and I welcome you to the one level before hell, your future. Would you like to continue the tour?

Chapter 2

"Shit," I muttered when I stubbed my bare toe on a root. Thirteen years have passed since the end of humanity.

John had ordered me to spy on an enemy camp about three miles south of our border. He suspected they were planning to attack, but he did not know when or where. So, he sent me, his best and most trusted spy. I had spied on the camp for three days now, recovering a copy of their battle plans as well as some food. It was as natural to me as breathing. With my powers, now so honed and strong, I could slip in and out of the camp with ease. After recovering the Intel, I had left the camp only to be scented out by their guard dogs. I ran along silently on the ground, amongst the moss covered ruins of the old times. The dogs bayed excitedly as they chased their prey. I could have easily destroyed the whole camp if I had liked, but I liked to keep the intensity of my powers to myself. No use in spilling the already soaked ground with more blood.

I ran with ease to the border and hopped the ten foot tall electric fence in one bound and continued on into our lands as I heard the yelps of shocked dogs behind me. My feet carried me to the very heart of the land where a huge citadel towered over the town below. The whole town was an awkward blend of modern appearance but medieval lifestyle. People dressed in modern hello kitty and flaming skulls clothes but they lived more like peasants in a medieval manor. Unfortunately the concept was still the same. You either had money or not. I looked at the poor people, suffering in their own feces. I walked through a fallow field watching the farmers collecting wheat for the coming winter. They glared at me like they might attack me. I knew what they were thinking. They were born into poverty when I had simply come into the equation rich and luxurious. I pulled the hood of my cloak closer around myself and sped up my pace. People stared as I jogged through town with my black cloak swirling out behind me. Underneath I wore a black t shirt, pants, and boots. When I reached the edge of the huge plateau the citadel sat upon, a young man waved to me. I gave a glare in return. I concentrated and created two beautiful white wings that joined at my shoulder.

I jumped into the air and flew, on newly formed wings, up to the tower where John's office was. I landed lightly on the window sill and climbed inside. John's office was very classy what with the ornate oriental rugs, soft plush chairs and the mahogany shelves that held every book from the unmentionable times. John thought it important to recover the knowledge from times past. His desk was from a huge white building that used to sit in the oval office. It has a brother in England, but ever since the end we had had no contact with any other country to see if they still existed. No one had sent help or attacked even so we figured they were in the same state. John sat studying some paper work on his desk.

"I have the intel," I said, giving John a scare.

"Oh, my dear, don't scare me like that," he smiled while clutching at his chest.

"Sorry," I replied crisply. I had no time for pleasantries. Mike was waiting; I was tired, and hungry.

"That's quite alright, you said you had found their plans?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, and some battle plans," I said pulling out the papers from an inside pocket and handed it to him.

"My, you are the best Melanie," John said. He clutched at the scroll as if it was a fragile golden shaving. He shifted through them at hyper speed looking for useful information.

"Yes, this is very nice," he mumbled.

I shifted anxiously from foot to foot, I wanted to see Mike and possibly get some food before I crashed. Plus this stone room was as cold, dank, and dark as a dungeon. Finally, impatience got the better of me.

"Is Mike here?"

"No, I sent him out to help out in some of the outer towns," he shuffled through some other papers on his desk.

Great, another mission to keep us apart. I had planned a nice picnic or hey even just talking. We never saw each other anymore, not since my birthday six months ago. I realized that I didn't even know if he was courting anyone. I sighed. It was like John was purposely separating us, make a gap in our relationship.

"Not to be rude, but may I leave?"

"Of course Mel, get some rest. I'll call for you in the morn."

I ran out of the room and turned left down the stairs. I went down about four flights before going through another door into the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread wafted around the cafeteria like area. Many people idly chatted or lounged on the tables, which resembled those in Hogwarts. (Yeah, Harry Potter was saved, it's more real than most of history.) I went straight for the kitchen and grabbed a fresh loaf of bread. The cooks made bread all day until six, and then they made dinner. I wouldn't be here that long. I wanted to leave before anyone saw me and started to chat, and I turned and ran head first into Thomas. I fell to the ground, dropping my bread.

"Thomas, look at what you did," I glared at him.

To my infuriation, he picked up the bread and held out a hand to help me up. I refused it and got up on my own. Thomas looked as if he had stepped out of a fashion magazine. He was lean, but muscular from all the work he did in the stables; his hair was a dark brown and lay messily on his tan head. Piercing blue eyes laughed at my frosty expression. He was very kind and gentle. Long story short, every girl wanted him. Since the human race was endangered, there was no law against having, um snooky snooky and children young. Another reason to stick to my vows.

"Sorry," he chuckled, "I didn't realize I had violated the new bread dropping law."

I sighed inwardly. When I said every girl wanted him, I meant every girl. I had to stick to my words.

"I wish you would stop trying to woo me," I said, malice dripping off the words.

"I can't. I'll never stop until you're mine."

"You shouldn't try harder. If you don't stop I'll have to hurt you. I'm from the South side and I'm not afraid to cut a bitch."

He didn't take the threat as I intended. Instead he laughed until he cried.

"I wonder when you'll learn you can't hide your feelings for me? Not when I can read your mind."

"You know why I can't Mr. Telepathy," I said sadly. "Plus how can I be sure you aren't just going to stand me up? Have, you know, and move on, spreading your genes leaving me heartbroken and pregnant?"

He got serious and looked deep into my green eyes. He took my hand in his.

"I love you Mel. I could never do that to you, not ever. No one else gets my attention. I love your fire, your kick-ass and take names attitude. Your ability to keep your word. Break the vow, it's just words," he breathed into my face.

"How do I know you're not lying?"

Thomas bent down and put his lips to mine. His soft gentle kiss sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. Before I knew what was happening, my fingers swirled his hair as I kissed him back. Then I thought of mike and became aware of my surroundings. People were staring. I burned with embarrassment and anger. Why did he have to make this so hard? I pulled my hands away and I grabbed my bread from his hands and stormed out of the kitchen and up a flight of stairs. He looked hurt as I left him there. I turned left into a hallway with many doors. These were our sleeping quarters when we, meaning John's fighters, where home. I went to the last door on the right; mine and Michael's room. Take a Hawaiian pent house, double the space and luxury, then add a whole wall of glass facing a forest and you have our room. We each had received our own Queen sized beds.

I changed into my pajamas and scarfed down some bread. After brushing my teeth I scrambled over to my plush bed and saw the note on my bed side table. It was from Mike.

Play nice with others. I'll be back soon. Always love you. Always be there for you.

Love,

Mike

I stared fondly at the note and slipped it into my pillow. After I few minutes I fell asleep. Little did I know that I would never see my brother again. That night my little Mikey was murdered by the leader of the nearby land, whom stabbed him to death forty times. I would never ever forgive that man and would chase him down until I could torture him until he was an inch from death. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Chapter 3

The next morning was bright and warm, a day full of promise and hope. I decided I would take a ride into the country side. I could fly or run, but I just wanted to enjoy the view. Of course, who other than Thomas would work in the stables? Maybe he wouldn't be there. I flew down into the rafters of the stable roof, looking down below. The sixteen stalls below me were empty except for three horses. The rest had gone with my brother to the eastern village. I had seen no one or heard no one in the building. I crept over, still in the rafters, and dropped down onto the back of my favorite gray stallion, Pec.

"Ready for a run boy?" I patted the horse's neck.

He whinnied softly. I used his mane for reins I stormed up to John's office and threw the door open so that it slammed the wall. John looked up from his work with a puzzled expression.

"You knew that he would be killed!" I screamed in his face.

He looked back calmly and said, "Yes, an action I had to take. The enemy must think we are weak and become cocky and unprepared. Only then we can defeat them for once and all."

"You bastard! You would give all of the lives of your people to secure your land! You're no better than the scum that destroyed this world!"

"I'm trying to recreate this world! To do that, certain sacrifices must be made!" he thundered.

"Sacrifices, is that all we are to you? If that's so, maybe I should make a sacrifice of my own," I whispered. I was full of grief and anger. I felt as if retribution should be made; starting with the scum I trusted. I shifted myself into the same wolf I had used against his men two years ago. I circled his desk snarling like a hellhound. He stood on his desk, eyes wide with fear. I leaped at his throat and John the Deceitful was no more.

Chapter 4

I jumped from the window and flew down to the stables where Thomas worked. I saw him scooping soiled hay out of the stalls and replacing it with fresh. I landed next to him, barely holding my tears in. I needed to get away from all of this before someone discovered the body, off this land. Thomas looked up from his work and saw me clutching my arms shaking.

"Mel? What's wrong?" he asked holding my arms.

"Will you run away with me?" I asked as looked at him as strongly as possible.

"You only had to ask."

Within fifteen minutes, Thomas had saddled up the horses and we galloped away. After a two day ride, we crossed the border and went into the Witch Woods, a no-man-land of sorts. I came to a small clearing and tumbled off my horse, a gray stallion named Pec, and sobbed. Thom came over and wrapped his strong arms around me whispering nonsense to me the whole time. I cried for three hours leaning against Thom, who was leaning against a walnut tree. I cried for my brother, for the people who died at John's disposal, my murdering rage, my parents, Marge, the planet, for Thom receiving my many rejections, but most of all, my broken vow. It was like a double slap; my brother dead and a broken vow.


End file.
